


Alive and Well

by CapNstuff



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boba Fett Needs A Hug, Boba Fett Survives, F/M, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Heavy Angst, Jabba's Palace (Star Wars), Mandalorian Boba Fett, Mandalorian Clans (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Matter of Life and Death, Near Death Experiences, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Post-Jabba's Palace (Star Wars), Post-Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Soft Boba Fett, The Mandalorian (TV) Season 2, The Mandalorian (TV) Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-12 19:35:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28890726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapNstuff/pseuds/CapNstuff
Summary: Whoever was in the familiar green armor before you was about to feel your wrath for stealing what wasn’t theirs.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Reader
Comments: 6
Kudos: 71





	Alive and Well

You never thought you would be back in the place you dread most. You hated it—your body filled with pure contempt as your feet trudged across the hot sands. Jabba’s Palace looked almost exactly the same as you remembered it. The red rusty metal gleamed against the blazing suns of Tatooine.

You could feel the bounty hunter’s eyes behind you, making sure to escort you into the large building. Everything was dark, with no light or windows to pave the way in front of you. The bounty hunter pushed you forward, and you let out a groan, almost falling onto the ground. Despite knowing that they can’t see you, you still send them a glare. 

The aura took no mercy on everyone around it; cruelty and greed were highly regarded above all else. There was always someone on top, someone that ruled over others. Someone always had control over the forsaken land and its people. 

And that was currently Bib Fortuna. 

After _that_ day, you wanted absolutely nothing to do with that place. Bib tried to convince you otherwise, but you sneered at him and spoke in a venomous tone.

_“There will never be a day when I’ll want to come back to this wretched place.”_

So having one of his lackeys come and ask for your presence had confused you. He was aware of what would happen if you came back, of what would happen to him if you came back. You blamed all of them for what had happened on _that_ day, and you would make them pay. 

The bounty hunter pushed you slightly for what felt like the hundredth time, hinting for you to get a move on. You want to squeeze your eyes shut at the familiar stairwell, bile rising in your throat. You thought of _him_ and those brown eyes staring back at you. You thought of his lips and how they felt against your cheeks. You thought of his skin and how it felt flushed against yours, the heat radiating off onto you. You thought about his hand clinging to yours, feet dangling in front of the Sarlacc pit. You thought about those soft words that poured through the modulator of the helmet. 

_“It’s okay, little one. It’ll be okay. Let go.”_

Your boots touch the hard ground of the cantina area, the music loud with dancers floating on tables and customers chugging Spotchka. Your eyes trailed from table to table to watch everyone with a sneer. 

You knew you shouldn’t have come back to this place, a wave of disgust washes over you. Your eyes follow to the center of the room, right where the throne is. You expected Bib Fortuna to be sitting there with a smug expression while he whipped one of his slaves. You expected Bib Fortuna to want something from you, to exploit your services for his own gain. 

But what you weren’t expecting was to see _him_. No, his _armor_. There was no possible way that that was him. You had watched him die. You had watched him fall into the depths of the Sarlacc pit, the tears stinging your eyes as he _let go_. 

So who the fuck is this?

The newly painted armor shined against the dim lights; it looked brand new. It didn’t have the chipped paint that you remember or the small bits of rust packed on the side. The visor was locked in your direction; whoever was underneath your riduur’s helmet was staring at you. 

Before you could even really think, you pointed a blaster straight at the helmet. The whole room becomes dead with silence, anticipation leaking from the walls. The amount of respect held for the thief before you had surprised you quite a bit. Bib Fortuna only had Jabba’s reign that kept him at the top. So whoever this being was, they were highly regarded and feared by others around the cantina. 

The mercenary next to them immediately reacted back with a blaster now pointed directly at your head. But it didn’t phase you. You held your ground and spoke with pure venom against your voice, “Take it off.”

“What did you just say?”

You didn’t look at the mercenary that spoke. Your eyes set right on the black visor. Honestly, you straight up ignored her, and the blaster pointed at you. You didn’t care, not when someone was wearing _his_ armor. 

“That armor doesn’t fucking belong to you. Take it off.”

“That armor does belong to him.”

You wanted to give her an exasperated look. You know who the armor belongs to, and it wasn’t them. There was no possible way that it was theirs. “No, It doesn’t. He probably found it somewhere. _Kriffing_ —take it off.”

She smirked. “Or what?”

Your eyes finally flick over towards the mercenary with your hardened gaze never wavering. You spoke your next words carefully, making sure that every syllable was articulated. You wanted everyone in Jabba’s Palace to know just exactly who you were. 

“I peel it off his dead body.”

Her fingers pressed against the trigger, you mentally prepared yourself for the mistake you were making. The entire cantina was full of people who would shoot you in a split second. She was almost about to shoot when a booming voice rang against the walls. 

“Everyone out!”

You almost had to double-take at the sound of that voice. You knew that voice. You _knew_ that voice better than your own. You could spot the click of his tongue and the shake of his vocal cords. Your gun only lowered slightly as you try and decipher whether or not your ears were playing tricks on you.

It took some convincing for the mercenary to leave, but everyone filed out as quickly as possible. The helmet, however, stayed right on you. He never wavered or faltered as everyone rushed out of the room. Your hand reacted quickly at the movement of his hands; the blaster pointed at his head again. He lifted his hands before slowly reaching his helmet. Once he saw that you weren’t going to shoot him, he started to lift his helmet. The hissing sound lifted into your ears as he slowly showed his face and the scene before you made your heart stop.

It was _him_.

He was _alive_. He even looked well. 

Your riduur was sitting right in front of you on a fucking throne. He was much different, that much you saw. There were new scars that were scattered on his face, and he didn’t have the fluffy black hair you once remembered. There were small wrinkles that deepened his smile lines, and his eyes had a sense of void in them. 

Before, they were lively and spirited. Before, they shined bright against many suns and glowed in the depths of moons. But now, they seemed duller, more broken.

You lowered your gun ever so slowly. Was it really him? Was the love of your life really standing before you? You didn’t know how many moments had passed that had been spared from the time you had been staring at him. You even didn’t know how long it had been since you started crying, the tears soaking your cheeks and dripping down your chin. 

“Boba, is—is that really you?”

The soft pillows of your voice struck his ears, and he could’ve sworn it was the most beautiful sound he had heard in quite some time. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he thought about the days, weeks, and years you went through, knowing he didn’t make it on that day. But, you were here. His little one was right in front of him, flesh and blood. 

“It’s really me, little one. I’m here. I’m _alive_.”

You were closer to him now, having taken a few steps onto the throne. A part of you wanted to reach out and touch his face, to hold him and never let go. However, the other part didn’t want to pressure him. What you had was in the past, far away from the surface of what once was. 

Before you could even make a decision, Boba grabbed you so desperately into his lap. The cool metal your body felt made you ache, pure fire burning through your body as he quickly took off his gloves. He needed to feel you. He needed to feel the soft crevasses of your skin, the rough calluses that grew beneath you, the edges and rounds of each and every part of your body. 

Your hands immediately went to rest on his cheeks, a gasp leaving his lips at the sensation. You didn’t waste any more seconds and pressed your lips against his, mouths colliding and mushing against one another. His hands roamed your body in desperation, his fingertips tingling at the familiar feel of your silky skin.

In between each kiss, you both sputtered out sweet words, grabbing and twisting at every waking moment. “I missed you. I’ve never stopped missing you.” He let out a breath, “you were always on my mind, princess. There wasn’t a day that went by where I didn’t think of you.”

You never thought that this moment would come to life—you had dreamed of it many times. You never thought you would ever see him again except for your memories. But he was _here_. He was right in front of you— _kissing_ you, loving you. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. You are my alit, my one true love.”

“I love you, I love you, I love—” You cut him off with another kiss, begging for those lips to never leave yours. Your hands ran down his chest plate, the hard surface struck upon the pads of your fingers. Your lungs screamed at you for some type of relief, but you never wanted to give in. 

“Never leave. Never leave me again. Never—”

“I’m never leaving. For as long as you want me, I’m yours.”

You shook your head slightly at yourself, “I should’ve looked for you. I should’ve gone there to save you. I should’ve held onto you tighter. I should’ve tried harder—”

He quickly grabbed your hands and held them tightly against his chest. His mouth pressed kisses against your cheeks and nose before diving back to your lips again. 

“Cyare, there was nothing you could’ve done. I was dead. I was gone. By luck, I was saved, and I knew you’d come back to me. I always knew.”

Your cheeks were still wet from the buckets of tears that had poured out of your eyes. Your hands shook slightly from the pure shock of the moment. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was that you were home. You were with him, and that’s all you could ever ask for. Your riduur found his way back into your arms.


End file.
